“Jerk,” I whispered. I started to move to the attic stairs when his voice stopped me.
“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done here. That was only the beginning.”
I spun to face him. “What? You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m not. I plan on riding you hard.” Crixis emphasized the final word a bit too much, and in spite of my best efforts, my dream rose to the forefront of my mind. I was kissing Gabriel, and then…
And then it was him. It was gross. An abomination of nature.
“You’re not riding me anywhere.” I sounded tougher than I felt. My arms were goo, though feeling was starting to creep back to them.
“Come here,” he stated. “Show me your stance.”
Biting my tongue, I stormed to his side, spreading my feet out into my usual fighting stance: feet shoulder-length apart, hands into fists (thumbs not inside the fists; I wasn’t a first-timer), and elbows cocked just a bit. My arms shook a bit, and I did my best to mask my weakness.
Crixis studied me. His eyes, for once, did not linger in places they shouldn’t. “You lead with your right side.”
“Well, aren’t you just a regular Einstein.”
He chuckled. “Intelligence should tell you that you don’t want your enemy figuring out how you lead.”
Ugh.
“Put your right foot back so it’s the same with your left.”
“But then when I do go to attack, it’ll take more time—”
He nodded. “It will. But your enemy won’t be able to prepare as well, not knowing which way you will come in.” Crixis tilted his head. “You’re faster than you think. You’ll still have the upper-hand.”
I held in a sigh and did as he said. It felt weird, like I wasn’t going to fight. When I came to train with him, I didn’t think he’d stoop to teaching me the basics, stuff I learned over ten years ago. It was the opposite way Koath had taught me; Raphael hadn’t ever instructed me on fighting stances.
“Next up, your arms,” he told me.
I couldn’t hold in that groan.
“Do I sense backtalk from you?” he asked with a smile. He knew how tired my arms felt. Holding them up like this wasn’t my idea of fun. When I didn’t move my right arm, he reached out, his hand gripping my fist, and lowered it himself.
His hands were rougher than mine. His hands had also done a lot of things mine never would, like kill Koath.
“Don’t touch me,” I said, sending him a deep frown.
Crixis withdrew his hand. “You are feisty, aren’t you?”
“Feisty isn’t the half of it,” I hissed.
Laughing at me, Crixis opened his arms, welcoming me. “Then come. Show me what you have.”
I didn’t need a second invitation.
I made the mistake of going after him with my left—just to prove to him that I didn’t always lead with my right—and my punch to his gut nearly bounced right off him. Could have been because his body was hard and solid like steel, or it could’ve been because my fists had no power behind them after holding onto that beam for so long.
He doubled-over, not because of my punch, but because he was too busy laughing at me. “That was an amusing attempt. My turn.” Before I could yell at him, his hand connected with my stomach.
I felt the blow instantly, stumbling back a few feet until my spine hit a vertical support. Ouch. “This isn’t fair,” I muttered, struggling to get into stance again when he motioned for me to return to him.
“You of all people should know life isn’t fair.” Crixis waited until I was ready before stating, “Again.”
We went at it again. And again. And again, and again, and again.
It got to the point where I whined, “This is stupid. All you’re doing is beating me. My arms are too tired.” I didn’t think I’d landed a single blow to him that felt more like an assault instead of a gentle pat on his stomach or chest. I was covered in bruises. Not exactly how I thought this training session would go.
“That is the point.” Crixis paused, waiting for me to get into position, yet again, before adding, “Do you truly not see what I’m trying to do? Were Raphael’s lessons always that straight-forward?”
I shrugged. It was difficult to even do that. “We mostly fought with weapons and read whatever book he told us to.” As I described our sessions, I could see Crixis shake his head in disgust.
“Of course he did. My old friend was never the creative one.”
“I don’t think he considers himself your friend.”
Crixis swiped his leg beneath my ankles, sending me to the floor. “You don’t know Raphael like you think you do.”
“I know that he was the first Purifier, made from pure magic from a Witch. That you turned the woman he loved, and that she turned him. You made him hate himself, and he hated you for it.”
He didn’t deny any of it.
After another bout of a failed assault, I asked, “Do you know where Raphael went?”
Raphael. It felt like forever since our last training session. Always butting heads, we didn’t exactly get along, but I knew I could count on him. I knew I could trust him, even though he kept his origins, and the fact that he was a Daywalker, a secret. And then he just up and left after the big fight, like it was over. Like no other evil could ever compare to Sephira. As if he did his job.
I kind of missed him, even though Crixis tried turning me against him.
“No. But I do know why he left.”
“Then tell me.” Tell me why he left without saying goodbye, without so much as a warning.
Crixis waited a moment; he didn’t go in for another attack, even though I’d just failed another punch to his gut. He said quietly, “It was Gabriel.” Gabriel. Not your boyfriend.
“What do you mean it was Gabriel?” I felt my arms lowering somewhat.
“Gabriel told Raphael to leave. Raphael had no choice but to go.”
“Why would he do that?”
“It’s no secret he did not like Raphael. He did not like your relationship with him.”
I blinked. Gabriel told Raphael to leave because—because he was jealous? The blonde had no reason to be jealous of anyone. He should know by now that I—that there were no boys, men, or Demons that I was interested in. He was so stupid.
It took me a while to find my voice. “It’s not like he forced him to—”
“He did. Have you looked at that book I gave you?”
I shook my head. “No. And I don’t want to.” Because I already knew, but I wanted to live in denial for as long as I could.
“You should. Gabriel is—” He recoiled when I hit him in the stomach. This time, it was a hard punch. A good punch. A punch that would’ve knocked a regular human civilian off his feet. My arms were a bit more like jelly afterwards, but it was worth it.
“I don’t want to hear it,” I said.
Crixis wasn’t happy with my sneak attack. In a flash, he had me pinned against the vertical support beam, baring sharpened teeth. “Then you are a fool. Your boyfriend is capable of things even I cannot do.”
“He is better than you.”
“Because he has you,” he muttered, pushing off of me.
He was better because he had me. No. I was better because I had him. Without him, I was nothing. I was lost. I was a ball of emotions, which led me to make questionable decisions, which led me here, to this training session and this particular conversation.
But if Gabriel was better because he had me, he shouldn’t have butt-in where he didn’t belong. He shouldn’t have told Raphael to go. Gabriel—my Gabriel—wasn’t the Devil.
Denial had never tasted so bitter.
Chapter Fifteen – Crixis
She clearly didn’t understand what I was attempting to do. She didn’t get it, even though I practically spelled it out for her. If she couldn’t fight when she was exhausted and weak, she was no warrior. She was just an opportunist. Until the time when she could push through her weary muscles and fight
me as she should be able to, I wouldn’t be satisfied. Raphael had coddled her. It was truly a wonder they ever managed to thwart me.
Bringing Raphael up was something I probably shouldn’t have done, for it led us to discuss her inevitable lover, Gabriel.
That blasted boy and his blasted old soul.
I told her that he was better because he had her, which wasn’t a lie. There was something about Kass that just felt righteous and pure, even if she was a royal pain with her attitude. Maybe that was why I went after her for so long—I didn’t understand what she was, and I was intrigued. Obsessed, some might call it. Kassandra Niles embodied everything that I hated, everything that I ran from. She embodied it, and she personified it. I couldn’t bring myself to finish her off all those years ago in that crypt. Maybe I should’ve. Maybe I should’ve killed her and that boy, just to be rid of them.
But even then, Gabriel wasn’t human. His powers were dormant.
Truth. Virtue. Justice. All were things I shed when I committed myself to revenge against my maker, my killer, Sephira.
I had a life, a purpose and a family. I had all that a man could want. And then it was ripped from me, taken and torn from my grasp by that Demon and her golden army. When I committed myself, I forgot what regret felt like. I didn’t feel guilt again. I couldn’t. Such feelings would only get in my way.
And then I stumbled across her. During all this time, while I toyed with her, she had somehow wormed her way inside me, like a virus. I started to feel. Bored, tired, regretful. Killing that man, her father, was a foolish attempt to return to my old ways. Unlike the me of centuries ago, I did not feel better after tearing his throat out.
I felt empty.
That wasn’t to say that I didn’t daydream of murder or debate it every now and then. I hadn’t changed that much.
As I realized that I’d been standing still for too long, Kass’s voice broke through my thoughts: “I saw what he was, in a world where you killed me. It was chaos. Like the apocalypse.”
I met her hazel gaze, thinking, lesson learned. I was not lying when I told her I rather liked the world as it was, mostly. I didn’t want it to end. Not really. I might tilt it towards destruction every now and then, but what conscious being didn’t romanticize about death?
Death: so final. A part of me longed for it, just to end it all. Pure dreams, those.
“You killed me, turned me. We were together, and I was a monster just like you,” Kass added, narrowing her eyes at me.
I found that hard to believe. She might draw the Demon side of me toward her, make me feel things—and I knew I often made comments that some might view as inappropriate—but being together with her, it made my stomach crawl.
It made my stomach crawl, just thinking about being, as she said, together with someone. Of course I’d indulged in my fair share of skin over the years—I was a man, after all—but I hadn’t ever sworn myself to someone. Sephira didn’t count, for my oath to her was forced and false. I hadn’t willingly done so since I was human.
I asked, “And Gabriel did not fight for you? He let me take you, and let the world descend into chaos?”
“I don’t know if let is the right word.”
“If he did not kill me, then he let me. That is the difference between Gabriel and me. I would fight until the end.”
Kass wasn’t impressed. “And after the end comes and goes, and you’re still here? Then what?” She shook her head. “Then you turn into a monster and lose everything anyway.”
I smirked. “You think you know loss. You do not.”
“Oh, I think I know plenty,” she referenced Koath, shooting daggers my way.
“No,” I quickly said. “Even if I wouldn’t have done it, you would’ve lost him sooner or later. Age claims. No, little Purifier, you do not know true loss. You don’t know what it feels like to lose those you thought you never would. You don’t know how it feels to outlive your own child, to hold his body in your hands and know that you have failed him. You know nothing.”
Kass turned her head away, muttering, “Maybe not. But if you know how awful it feels, why would you inflict the same pain on others?”
“Because I lost my will to care,” I stated simply, for it was true. I did not care about the pain others felt. Not anymore. I’d long since been past that. I did not care that Kass walked in and found her father dead. I did not care about the sadness she felt, or the anger that took its place. I doubt I ever would care, even if I did regret my actions.
I had no empathy.
It’s what made me such a good monster all these years.
“I don’t care about your pain,” I said, earning a scornful expression from her. “I don’t care about your feelings. I don’t care about the torture you feel, wondering if your boyfriend will ever wake up. What I do, I do for myself. Not you, not society, not Sephira. The only thing I care about is me.”
Even as I said it, a nagging feeling in my gut told me it was a lie. It had to be, partially, because why else would I feel the slightest regret and guilt? One only felt regret and guilt when one cared.
“That’s it for today,” I told her before she could retort. I could tell she wanted to attack me, to lunge and beat me for my words. Adrenaline did amazing things, and yet, even at her best, she was no match for me. “Come back tomorrow.”
She hastily moved to the stairs, tossing a quick look over her shoulder. “I hate you,” she whispered, angry and upset. And then she was gone.
I smiled to myself. She was not the only one who hated me, and I was certain she would not be the last. Being hated and despised was something I was used to. It made my actions, my lack of empathy, almost necessary. I liked being hated, because the last time those living felt anything else toward me, they were lost to the sands of time.
I exited the attic and went to the lower level of the house. I noticed Kass had left the front door wide open, and as I went to it, Maurice looked at me from the living room. He had the TV on, watching some old game show. “What did I tell you, son? You need to be nicer to your wife, otherwise she’ll leave, like your mother, and then you’ll wonder just where the heck your life went.”
Moving my gaze from Maurice to the girl power-walking up her driveway, I closed my eyes and sighed. When I opened my eyes, I was thrust into a memory so unwanted that I felt sick after.
Bright green eyes stared up at me, a sharp contrast to the dull sand around him, and his dirty clothes. He was only as tall as my hip, and yet there was fire in his eyes, a fire I was proud to see. His tanned skin and short black hair held dust as he raised his fists to me, shouting boldly, “You’re not the best warrior. I am!”
“Courageous words,” I told him. “Let’s see if you have the strength to back them up.”
He ran straight for me, trying to tackle me, but I side-stepped him with a flourish, about to get the wooden swords from the chest nearby. Another presence caused me to lift my eyes and meet her smiling face. In order not to be tackled to the ground by an overzealous young warrior, I held out my arm, hand catching my boy’s head, holding him at arm’s length. He still swung at me, though his arms were too short.
“Cheat!” he accused, struggling and failing to break free.
My beautiful wife smiled. Her dark hair, curled and pinned to her head, swayed in the wind that was always present in our village. “He is your son, Crixis.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “I do wonder if he would’ve been a daughter, what you would’ve done.” She baited me, still smiling.
I chuckled as I lightly pushed our son onto the sand and moved to her side, snaking an arm around her waist as I proudly said, “I would’ve made her a warrioress every god would be envious of.” I finished my statement with a kiss, smothering her laughter, even as our son commented about how disgusting it was, seeing his parents like this. “Perhaps we should have another, keep trying until we get that daughter.”
A wide smile and an open mouth, but her words were cut short by a deep voice who said
, “An envoy of metal-clad men approaches the eastern front. We should give them a good welcome.”
I didn’t even have to say the words. My beautiful wife nodded, walking slowly to where my two blades sat, leaning against the stone steps. She picked them up and handed them to me. “Go, my husband. Bring honor to us.”
Honor.
It was something I often preached about. Most men wanted glory, but I knew glory itself was worthless without honor.
I gave her one, final kiss and gently nudged my son’s chin as I went by, joining the band of my brothers.
Enough, I told my mind. No more of that. No more of that blasted day. It was a day I did my best to forget, a day I never thought of, because it was the day I lost everything. It was the day I became a slave to Sephira. And, truly, if I hadn’t stumbled upon the trail that led me to Vexillion’s ritual, I never would’ve gotten out from under her. And I was always under her. On the field, in bed. Always under that Demon.
It was odd.
I always thought, if the day ever came, that I would feel better once the world was truly rid of her. But I didn’t feel better. If anything, I felt worse. I felt alone.
With Kass long gone from my view, I closed the front door with a sigh.
Chapter Sixteen – Kass
I could not believe him.
I don’t care about your pain.
I was never under the impression that he did care—because he was Crixis and he destroyed everything that was good—so why did I feel so upset after hearing him say it? Why did I feel like screaming into my pillow? Was it because I was already upset with Gabriel’s coma, or was it because, sometimes, Crixis wasn’t so bad?
It was an awful, terrible thing to admit to myself. It was. And yet, it was true. There were times of clarity, times when I didn’t see the Demon who made my life miserable, the Daywalker who murdered Koath, who may or may not have had a hand in my mom’s death, too. Moments when he acted like a real person, not a psychopath.
If he was a normal guy, and we didn’t have such bad history, I wouldn’t mind him. I actually wouldn’t mind spending time with him, or even dreaming of him.
The Nightwalkers Saga: Books 1 - 7 Page 112